Blast from the Past
by RuthlessStyleFreak
Summary: Chapter Five Up! When a woman from the past shows up, she unleashes an “interesting” havoc among the Crane family and friends. Read and Review!
1. Brianna Ackland

Disclaimer: I do not own "Frasier" or any related characters.  The only parts of this story that I _do_ own are: the plot and the character Brianna.  And yes, I know that I used a Brianna in my other story, but it's not the same one.  Just so you know!

A/N: This is the first of a series of "Brianna" stories that I have come up with.  So, if you would, please read, review, and tell me what you think, and if you'd like more!  Thanks much!  Also, this story takes place early second season.

Title: Blast from the Past

Rating: PG-13 . . . because I can!!!

Genre: General (FWI: This is NOT a romance story, so don't worry)

Summary: When a woman from the past shows up, she unleashes an "interesting" havoc among the Crane family and friends.

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**~Blast from the Past~**

**Chapter One-Brianna Ackland**

At an airport in Miami, Florida, sitting near GATE 14, was a young woman, no older than thirty-five-years-old.  Her eyes were locked upon the book she held in her hands: Stephen King's novel, 'Salem's Lot.  It fascinated her, as nearly all of Stephen King's books did.  The suspense, the fight, the twisted humor . . . she loved it all.

     Her ears perked up at the sound of the intercom being turned on.  A male's voice, sounding almost computer-like, was projected over the speakers: "Now boarding at GATE 14, non-stop flight to Seattle.  First-class passengers may now begin to board."

     The woman gently laid her book down upon her small duffle bag and pulled her ticket out from the hip pocket of her jeans.  She knew that she was not first class.  Hell, she was lucky that she was even able to _afford_ a plane ticket, but nonetheless, she removed her plane ticket and peered at the row number: 26A.  She slipped the ticket back into her pocket, thanking God that they began boarding from the _back_.  

     She picked her book back up, folded the page over and shut the book.  She crossed her legs, waiting patiently for her row to be called.  "Now boarding rows twenty-five and higher," the man on the intercom announced.  She smiled softly, standing up and stretching her back.  As she kneeled down and picked up her duffle bag, she noticed that there were two men waiting in line to board the plane.

     She got in line, adjusting the strap on her shoulder, as well as getting a good look at the two men, one of which, she assumed, would be sitting next to her.  Since she stood at a height of six-foot-three, she was reasonably taller than both of the men, but she silently hoped that she would be seated next to the smaller of the two men, so that she would be able to _maybe_ trade seats with them, in order to get an aisle seat so that she wouldn't be _too_ cramped.

     As she handed her ticket to the ticket agent, she emitted a deep sigh.  Why was she even _going_ to Seattle?  Well, she knew _why_, but did she even think that anything, or anyone, there would be able to help her?  Although she did not know for certain that she would be able to find a job in Seattle, she knew that there was someone there who would (hopefully) help her.

     The ticket agent handed her back her ticket, smiling up at her as she did so.  "Enjoy your flight."

     "Thank you," she replied.  As she strolled down the hallway, she looked at her ticket: ACKLAND, BRIANNA, it read, the letters of her name gleaming up at her.  She stuck the ticket into her pocket in disgust.  She hated her first name; it never seemed to suit her as a person.  But she never dared tell anyone this, as she was named after her late-grandmother, whom everyone in the family seemed to worship as some sort of goddess.

     Her family.  One of the main reasons that she had to get out of this Godforsaken city as fast as she could.  They never seemed to appreciate who she was.  They wanted her to be like the rest of them: rich, uptight, and stuck-up.  At first, she had tried her hardest to become what they wanted.  She had gone to Duke University and had received a Master's Degree in law, and all the while she had been upset and miserable.  She never even _tried _to look for a job; she simply stayed in her parent's house.

Her parents hadn't been particularly pleased about their daughter living with them, but it also didn't anger them.  They enjoyed having one of their five children living at home with them, but it didn't stop them from trying to turn Brianna into exactly what they were.  She had resisted terribly, and after a year of trying, they gave up, leaving Brianna to live in her room, broke and jobless.

   For about ten years, Brianna had worked on what she truly loved; the arts.  She loved everything about it, except for _actual_ art, such as painting and sculpting.  She would spend the entire day playing her guitar and singing.  It filled her with such mirth that she would actually forget that one day her parents would kick her out . . .

She got onto the plane and walked down the small aisle to where her seat was.  She had to crouch down slightly so that her head wouldn't touch the roof of the plane.  Finally, after attempting to squeeze past the other passengers, she managed to find her seat: 26A.  She sighed in relief; it was the aisle seat.  In the middle seat was the short man who had boarded the plane before her and next to him was a teenage boy, who was obviously riding alone for the first time.  Brianna could literally see beads of sweat begin to form at his hairline.

     She sat down in her chair and placed the duffle bag beneath the seat in front of her.  She glanced to her right; the man caught her eye and smiled.  She smiled back, but soon tore away from his stare.  She was a beautiful girl, many people had told her so, but being stared at always made her feel uncomfortable.  

     She ran her fingers through her auburn hair, still anxious as to what to expect when she arrived in Washington, or, as her friend from Missouri pronounced it, Warshington.  Luckily, she had lived in Seattle for nearly eight years when she was younger, so she assumed that there had to be _someone_ she knew still living there, right?

     High school had been an interesting experience for her.  Her freshmen year, she had gone to Murphy III High School.  That summer between freshmen and sophomore year, her parents decided that she should go to a more _advanced_ school.  She was (almost) immediately accepted into Auburn High.  She had hated that school, but had made quite a few friends there . . .

     "Excuse me, are you using that pillow?"  Brianna looked back over at the man beside her.

     "Oh, no, you can have it," she replied, handing the small white pillow over to the man, who placed it beneath his head and closed his eyes.

     Auburn High.  That was the school where she had befriended the sweetest, but strangest, boy.  She had never liked him _that_ way, although her classmates believed otherwise.  She just thought of him as a friend who would _always _help her, no matter what.  That summer, her parents had decided that they were moving to Florida, Miami, to be exact, and she never saw her friend again.  Until now.

     "Would you like something to drink?"

     Brianna was shaken out of her thoughts.  She looked at the flight attendant, who was leaning on the drink cart.  "Oh, yes please.  Umm, can I have just a Pepsi?"  The flight attendant nodded and pulled a Pepsi can out of the cart and handed it to Brianna.  "Thank you."  The flight attendant nodded and went on to serve the man and the teenage boy.

     Well, at least she _hoped_ that she would meet up with her friend again.  She had gone to that online site ("Reconnect with friends and old high school flames"-Reunion.Com) and couldn't find anything that said he had left Washington.  Finding him probably would have been easier if she could remember his last name.  It had been bothering her ever since she thought about going back to Washington.

     Anger boiled in her stomach as she remembered _why_ she wanted to leave in the first place.  It had been her mother, of course, but what they did . . . it had made her so angry that she had tossed all of her belongings into a suitcase (or two) and had waltzed out of that house before she even realized what they had done was wrong, if they ever even figured it out.

It had been just two days ago.  Her mother had called her down to "meet someone special."  Someone special, ha, it was a laugh.  It was just her mother's feeble attempt to get her away from their house and loaded up on money.  She had gone down the stairs, expecting to see some old guy from the country club that was staying for dinner.  Boy, had she been surprised.  

     As soon as she came to the bottom of the stairs, she saw, with shock, that there was a young, tall, brown-haired man sitting on the couch, talking to her mother.  As she entered the room, they had both erupted into a standing position and hurried over to her.  _Honey_, her mother had said, _this is Shawn.  He'd like to take you out to dinner._  Her mother had given her a knowing wink, which clearly said, "He's rich, sweetie.  Please marry him."

     That had been the straw that broke the camel's back.  She had looked back and forth from Shawn to her mother, turned on her heel and run up the stairs to her room.  She threw all of her important stuff into suitcases and walked down the stairs towards the front door.  Before leaving for good, she had turned to her mother (and Shawn) and gave her a memorable farewell: _I apologize, Shawn.  Mom, I don't know if you've figured it out yet, but I'm not you or Grandma, okay?  I am who I am, and I know that you don't like who I am, but, you know what?  I don't care.  I'm leaving, and I'm _not_ marrying some rich tycoon with a 41K balance in his bank account like you did._

     Oh, the look on her mother's face had been _priceless_.  She had felt great all of yesterday, at least until she figured out that she had nowhere to go and barely any money in her savings account.  But what was her friend's last name?  She couldn't figure it out.  Niles Something.  Something . . .

     She gasped as something wet and cold splashed onto her chest.  "Oh, my God, I am so sorry!" the man beside her apologized, handing her all of his napkins.  "I'm so sorry."

     Brianna began to wipe off her shirt.  Luckily, it was a blue shirt, not a white one, and the liquid had been water.  "It's okay; don't worry about it," she insisted.  Her shirt was pretty old anyways.  It had rips here, tears there, and even a blood stain from when she had gotten into a fight with her roommate in college, which, she still insisted, was _not_ her fault.  Her roommate had taken her (Brianna's) volleyball and was threatening to throw it out of the two story window, just because Brianna refused to let her join her study group.  

     Man, some people just overreact to the simplest things.  She didn't even feel bad when she fractured her roommate's nose after her roommate had punched her in the stomach.  Just a run-of-the-mill catfight.

     Niles Something.  Niles . . . it was a bird, right?  Some kind of a bird.  She shook her head.  She simply could _not_ remember, and it was giving her a headache.  Niles . . . oh, why think about it now?  As soon as she got there, she would look in the phone book and spend the day looking for anyone with the name "Niles."  What a great day it was going to be . . .

     She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and glanced at her watch.  It was only ten fifteen in the morning; she would arrive in Seattle at about one in the afternoon.  Perfect; that left _plenty _of time to find Niles Whatever-His-Name-Is.  She crossed her legs and pulled out 'Salem's Lot, becoming deeply immersed in the vampire horrors.

**Seattle-Café Nervosa**

     The two Crane brothers were sitting at their table in their favorite café.  "Frasier?" said Niles, a question in his voice.

     "Yes Niles?" he replied, taking a sip of his coffee.

     "I have a dilemma."  He leaned towards his older brother, as though not wanting for any passer-bys to hear.  "I have a patient who, how do I put this?  He . . . has a high self-esteem.  Now, since you are a-" He cleared his throat. "-celebrity, I was wondering if you had any advice on how I should deal with his predicament."

     "Well," Frasier began, glancing at his watch.  "Oh, I'm sorry Niles, but I have to go do my radio show.  I promise, we'll talk later."  Frasier stood up and walked towards the exit, pulling on his jacket as he did so.

     "Okay," murmured Niles, sarcastically, setting down a tip and leaving the café as well.

**Seattle****, ****Washington****-****One O'clock******

Brianna Ackland shifted slightly in her sleep, her head propped up against a pillow, which the stewardess had given to her not long before.  She awoke to the sound of the captain's voice over the intercom.  "Attention passengers, we are now preparing to land, so please return all chairs and tables to their upright positions, and thank you for flying with us."

     She sat upright, pulling the pillow out from behind her and placing it on her lap.  "Oh boy," she whispered, biting her lip.  She was terribly nervous about what was going to happen in her new life in Seattle . . .

_To Be Continued . . ._

A/N: Please review and tell me what you think!  Thanks!  Much love!


	2. Niles Crane!

Disclaimer: I do not own "Frasier" or any related characters.  I also do not own the car rental company Hertz.  The only parts of this story that I _do_ own are: the plot and the character Brianna. 

A/N: I decided to upload this story before leaving for a club volleyball tournament.  And thanks for the reviews!  Don't forget to review this chapter, though.

Title: Blast from the Past

Rating: PG-13 . . . because I can!!!

Genre: General

Summary: When a woman from the past shows up, she unleashes an "interesting" havoc among the Crane family and friends.

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**Chapter Two-Niles Crane!**

     Brianna Ackland gripped the armrests of her seat tightly as the plane came closer and closer to the ground.  She didn't have a problem with the flying part of airplanes; it was the landing part that always did her in.  

     She swallowed the lump in her throat as the plane's tires gently scraped the ground.  The plane bounced slightly, then, as the tires landed on the runway, shook the plane with such a hard thump that Brianna squeezed her eyes closed.  The whirring from the plane's engines was blowing in her ears; she did not open her eyes until the captain came on the intercom once again:

     "Ladies and gentlemen, we have now arrived in Seattle, Washington.  The time is now one fifteen.  Please wait until the 'fasten seatbelt' sign is off before getting up from your seats.  Once again, thank you for flying with us and have a great day."  The intercom shut off with a click.

     Brianna sighed deeply, mostly out of relief that the plane had not skidded off of the runway.  Every time she was on a plane, she had vowed never to get back on one, but here she was, in a plane and in Seattle.  _Niles__ Something . . ._

     As the plane slowly pulled into the gate, Brianna noticed that her right leg was jiggling nervously.  She crossed her left leg over her right leg, in an effort to stop the irritating bouncing.  _Niles__ . . . a bird.  What bird, though?_

     The plane was moving rather slowly, and Brianna was _dying_ to get out.  To walk on solid ground.  To eat food that wasn't comprised of peanuts and soda.  Like pizza . . . or hamburgers!  She never had to obsess about her weight, and it had always driven her girl friends crazy.  She wasn't emaciated, but she also wasn't hefty.  She was . . . perfectly average for her height.  With her horrible eating habits (wolfing down anything that was placed in front of her), she often thanked God for giving her such a wonderful metabolism.

     She glanced out of the window.  Although the teenage boy's head was covering most of the view, she could tell that they were nearing the gate.  She leaned down and grabbed her bag, placing it gently in her lap.  She grabbed 'Salem's Lot from the seat pocket in front of her and stuffed it into her bag, on top of her plane ticket.

     Brianna felt the plane give a slight lurch as it stopped, and she felt an urge just to spring up and rush towards the exit.  But no; the problem with being seated first on an airplane is that you have to exit last.  She moaned inwardly, waiting for the fasten seatbelt sign to turn off.

     *Ping* The seatbelt light snapped off, and there was an eruption of seatbelts unlocking.  She removed her seatbelt and stood; her head smacked the ceiling over her and she sat back down in her chair, rubbing her head where it had collided with the ceiling.  She would simply wait for everyone else to get out of the aisle before she stood up.

     She rubbed at her olive-colored eyes; her contact in her left eye had shifted slightly.  She fixed the contact and waited patiently.  _Niles__ Bird . . ._

     Finally, she saw a gap in the line of people exiting the plane.  She slipped out of her seat and moved step by step towards the exit.  As she neared the door, she gave a friendly half-wave to the flight attendants and pilots who were standing by the door, seeing people off.  Why they did that, she had no idea.  Either to be polite or it was part of their job to act cheery all day.  Ugh, what a life.

     The smell of the airport hit her immediately as she stepped into it.  It was a smell that all airports had, but no one knew exactly what it was.  She pushed her way through the crowds, looking up at all of the signs to see where the baggage claim was.

     She stood by the metal carousel, looking at it go around and around.  Bags were already beginning to appear on the carousel, but so far, she had not seen either one of her bags: a rolling green bag with her initials "B.A." on it, and a dark blue duffle bag with white pockets.

     _Niles__ Something . . ._

     She looked at her arm.  Not five days prior, she had gone to Miami Beach to get a tan.  Already, the tan was beginning to peel away, allowing her regular skin color to show.  She glanced up towards the carousel; her green rolling bag was coming towards her.  She leaned out and grabbed it as it went by.

     And there was her blue bag.  She grabbed it as it went by.  Smiling, she threw the blue duffle bag's strap over her left shoulder and used her right hand to pull the green bag behind her.

     _Niles__ . . . a bird.  Robin?  No . . ._

     She walked up to the Hertz car rental window.  "Hi," she said, greeting the young man standing there, who smiled in reply.  "I have a car rented, under the name Brianna Ackland."

     It had taken a few minutes too long to get her car.  Apparently, the man working there had been a trainee, and needed help a third of the way through.  But here she was, standing in front of her rented Jeep Liberty, ready to go out and be . . . who _she _wanted to be.  She smiled again; it felt so good to be herself.  Finally.

     She unlocked the Jeep and tossed her baggage into the back.  She walked up to the front door and started the car.  She drove around the maze of cars in an attempt to find the exit.  She glanced at the clock.  The green numbers 2:52 PM shined at her.  _Okay,_ she thought, _if I get to a library, I can look on an online directory.  It'll be easier . . ._

     Brianna switched on the radio.  "I wonder what kind of music they have here," she said to herself.  "Hopefully rock or R&B or something . . ."

     She pressed the SEEK button.  Classical music filled her ears.  She grunted in disgust and pressed SEEK again.  A woman's voice came on over the speakers.  ". . . and I'm so afraid of meeting him at the divorce court, because I know that he'll win custody over my kids, and I don't want to lose them!"

     Brianna rolled her eyes.  Some woman ranting about her problems over the radio; it must be a radio psychiatry show.  A man's voice responded: "Well, Cecile, you shouldn't be afraid to confront your husband!  Go down to that divorce court and fight for your children!  If your husband really is as bad as you say he is, he shall not succeed."

     "Okay.  Thank you!" Cecile replied.  Brianna shook her head.  Taking advice from a radio psychiatrist . . . it was just a way for cheap people to get free mental help.  _Oh God_, she thought, rubbing her forehead.  _I sound just like my mother._

     "Okay, well, that's all the time we have today," continued the radio psychiatrist.  "This is Doctor Frasier Crane wishing you all good mental health."

     Brianna's eyes opened wide.  _Niles__ Crane!  That was it!_  She had to get to a phone book, a library, something!  She knew that he would help her.  They had had a pact.  But Frasier Crane . . . wasn't that his brother?  His brother was a radio psychiatrist?  She remembered that Niles had desperately wanted to be a psychiatrist.  _I wonder if he ever did it._

     She saw out of her window that there was a telephone booth standing on the side of the road, a phonebook handing by a metal chain on the inside.  She quickly parked the Jeep and hopped out of the car, walking (quickly) towards the phone booth.  

     She slipped inside the booth and slid the door shut behind her.  _Niles Crane_, she repeated in her mind, flipping to the "C" names.  "Niles Crane, Niles Crane," she murmured, letting her finger glide down the list of names.  "Well, there's Frasier Crane and a Martin Crane, but no Niles Crane.  He must be unlisted . . . or he doesn't live here anymore."

     _Great._  She nearly shut the book.  _Wait_, she thought, looking down at the name "Frasier Crane."  _Maybe _he'll _help me, since I know his brother.  _She pulled a pen out of her pocket and scribbled Frasier's address down on her hand.  She looked at the phone number.  It wouldn't hurt to just _call_ Frasier, would it?  I mean, the worst he could do was say no.  Or call the cops on her.  Good thing that she was in a phone booth, so he couldn't trace the call back . . .

     Why was she thinking about Frasier trying to track her down?  All she wanted was to find his brother.  She pulled out her wallet from her pocket and took out a quarter.  She slid the quarter into the slot and carefully pressed each number.  She held the phone to her ear with her shoulder as she zipped up her wallet and slid it back into her pocket.

      The other line began to ring . . .

                                                            *          *          *

     Frasier Crane was sitting in his apartment, reading the newspaper when the telephone rang.  "Daphne, could you get that?" he called into the kitchen.  

     Daphne Moon came out from the kitchen into the living room.  She shot Frasier an angry look that he did not see, but it made her feel slightly better nonetheless.  She picked up the phone.  "Crane residence."

     A young woman's voice replied: _"Hi, umm . . . is Frasier Crane there at this moment?"_

"Yes he is," replied Daphne.  "One moment please."  She pulled the phone away from her ear.  "Dr. Crane," she whispered, causing Frasier to turn around and look at her.  "There's a woman on the phone asking for you."

     Frasier laid down his newspaper.  "Oh really?" he asked, half-smiling.  "And what did she say she wanted?"

     "She did not say," replied Daphne.  "Would you like me to ask?"  She brought the phone back up to her ear.

     "No, no," insisted Frasier, holding his hand out for the phone.  "I'll ask her.  Hello?" he asked, after Daphne had handed him the phone and returned to the kitchen.

     _"Hi, is this Frasier Crane?"_

"Yes it is."

     _"You probably don't remember me.  Well, why should you?  I never really knew you too well."  _There was a slight pause before the woman continued.  _"Anyways, my name is Brianna Ackland.  I was in your brother __Niles__' sophomore class at __Auburn__High School__."_

     "I see," replied Frasier, his eyes squinting in confusion.  "Oh, I think I remember you.  Were you a red head?  And were you really tall?" he asked.

     _"Yeah, that was me.  Umm, the reason I called was . . . does __Niles__ still live in __Seattle__?" _she asked, sounding even more anxious than she had at the beginning of the conversation.

     "Yes he does.  Why, may I ask?"

     _"Well, I'm sort of embarrassed to say, but . . . I've been living with my parents, mostly my mom, because my dad died, for the last ten years and I got sick of it.  My mom never let me be who I am and I just . . . snapped!  So, I was calling to ask your brother if he could help me with my little . . . problem.  He and I were pretty good friends in high school."_

     Frasier rubbed his eyes.  This Brianna Ackland really _did_ have a problem.  But what could he do?  "Brianna?" he asked.

     _"Yes?"_

     "Would you like to come by my house?  Well, where are you?"

     _"I just arrived in __Seattle__ about an hour ago, not even.  I have your address.  I'm in a phone booth right now."_

"A phone booth?" Frasier repeated.  "Well, get out of there and come on by!"

     There was silence.  _"Thanks, Frasier.  I'll be right there."_

     Frasier heard the phone click, and he thought about what he had just done.  What if this woman wasn't who she said she was?  Well, then he wouldn't let her in.  He stood up, adjusted his suit, and began to mix up some drinks to serve when his "guest" arrived . . .

_To Be Continued . . ._

A/N: I'm sorry that the chapter was so short, but I wanted to put this chapter up before I left for my tournament.  And remember to review.  Thanks! 


	3. Beware of Pity

Disclaimer: I do not own "Frasier" or any related characters.  I also do not own the car rental company Hertz.  The only parts of this story that I _do_ own are: the plot and the character Brianna. 

A/N: Thanks for the reviews!  Don't forget to review this chapter, though.

Title: Blast from the Past

Rating: PG-13 . . . because I can!!!

Genre: General

Summary: When a woman from the past shows up, she unleashes an "interesting" havoc among the Crane family and friends.

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**Chapter Three-Beware of Pity**

     Brianna Ackland stood in front of Frasier Crane's apartment door, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.  She still was not sure if she was ready to go inside just yet.  She did not think that she could take it if Frasier (or Niles) said that she could not stay with them and to get "the hell off of their property," as one of her ex-neighbors had so kindly put it when she had asked to stay with them for a few days.

     She tugged nervously at the small duffle bag's strap, which was hanging on her shoulder.  She then unzipped the bag slightly, stuck her hand inside, and pulled out a piece of gum. 

     As she chewed on it, she lifted her hand and knocked on the door once.  Twice.  Then once more.  She heard a voice call from behind the door: "Coming!"  Sighing deeply, she took a step back and waited.

     The door unlocked and opened, revealing an elderly white-haired man, a cane in his right hand, about half-a-foot shorter than she was.  She looked slightly taken aback when he first saw her, but his expression relaxed after a second.  "Hi," he greeted cheerfully.  "You must be Brianna, Frasier's friend."  He stepped back from the door and motioned for her to enter.  "Come on in!"

     Brianna smiled politely at him and stepped inside the apartment.  "Thanks," she said.  "And I'm not really Frasier's 'friend.'  I'm more like his . . . acquaintance."  She stuffed her hands inside her jeans pockets and strolled around the living room, looking around at the apartment.  

     "Huh," she said, sitting on the arm of the couch.  "This is a nice place Frasier's got here."

     Martin shrugged, looking up at Brianna strangely, trying to remember her from somewhere.  "Wait," he said suddenly.  "Are you the same Brianna from Niles's high school?"

     Brianna nodded.  "Yeah, that was me."

     "Well, you haven't changed much."

     "And yet you still didn't remember me," replied Brianna, smiling, which caused Martin to smile as well.  "Well, I remember you; you're Martin Crane, Niles and Frasier's father.  So . . . you live here in Seattle?"

     "Actually, I live here with Frasier," replied Martin.

     "Really?"  Brianna sounded more surprised than she had meant to, so she added: "Well, that was very nice of him."

     As she stepped past Martin to look around the apartment, she saw Martin roll his eyes and she had to suppress a grin.  Martin and his sons never seemed very much alike, and it had always amused her when the three of them had tried to do anything together.

     _Wow_, she thought.  _This apartment is really, _really_ nice.  Their living atmosphere hasn't changed much.  They live just like-_

Brianna was struck with an all-to-real conclusion: _They live just like my mom and Steve!_  Her mother, Rebecca Ackland (she had kept her ex-husband's last name for unknown reasons), and her thirty five-year-old hubby, Steve-dumb as a post but gorgeous nonetheless-or "boy toy" as Rebecca's friends and acquaintances called him, had almost the exact living situation as the Cranes.

     As she looked around at the expensive paintings on the walls, the bottles of wine in the cabinets, and the fancy furniture (as well as an old yellow Barcalounger in the middle of the room), Brianna was hit with a feeling of nausea.  Could it be that she simply left _one_ rich living environment for another?

     "Dad?" a voice from the back rooms called out, shaking Brianna from her thoughts.  "Was there a knock on the door earlier-" Frasier appeared from the back and cut off his sentence as soon as he saw Brianna.  "Oh, hello," he greeted, straightening his tie.  "You must be Brianna Ackland."  He walked up to her and held out his hand for her to shake.

     Brianna looked at him and forced a smile.  "Yeah.  Oh, and thanks for letting me come over on such short notice," she added, shaking his hand.

     "Oh, it's no problem," he replied, tasting the lie in his mouth.  The truth of it was, her coming over _had_ been a small problem; he had wanted to go to a wine-tasting convention downtown.  But, in the end, he had decided that a person's problem should come before wine (although if his brother had heard him say that others' problems came before wine, there would have been an argument that he, Frasier, would not win.  He was sure of _that_).

     "Now," he said, sitting on the couch.  "What seems to be your problem, and could you be more specific than you were on the phone?"

     "Okay.  Alright, here's what happened . . ." Brianna began telling her story from start to finish, beginning with how she knew Niles from college to her mother's feeble attempt at a set-up.  Frasier seemed to be interested in her story and, she hoped, would figure out a way to help her find a job that she actually _liked_, and could find somewhere for her to live.

     ". . . so you see why I _had_ to get away from my mother and, who _she_ believed to be the solution to her mid-life crisis, Steve," she concluded, using her finger to draw consecutive circles on the armrest of Frasier's couch.

     "Hmm," said Frasier, thoughtfully, holding his head in his hand.  "I see your problem; your mother wanted you to be just the way _she _was and you fought against that . . ."

     Brianna flashed him a quick "Didn't-I-_just_-say-that?" look, but nodded.  "Yeah."

     "Well, I respect your want to be who you truly are, but how could either my brother or I possibly help you?"

     "Well . . ." She trailed off, not knowing exactly _how_ to approach asking an almost complete stranger for a place to stay . . . like his own home.  "I-I . . . uhh . . ." 

     The words got caught in her throat.  She coughed silently.  She _never_ had this much trouble talking to other people.  Usually she was very outgoing, always willing to ask someone for pretty much anything.  But this favor she needed seemed a little . . . much.

     "I . . . was hoping that one of you would . . . let me stay with you."  There, it was out.  "You know, at least until I can make enough money to stay in a hotel.  Do you think that one of you would be willing to do that?"

     Frasier stared at his guest for a few seconds.  "Umm, well . . ." Now it was _his_ turn for no words to come out.  He did not want to come across as selfish or ignorant, but he was running out of room in his apartment.  Unless she wanted to sleep on the couch . . . no, that would never work!  He was putting his foot down on this.  There was no way Brianna could stay with him.

     As he opened his mouth to say so, he caught a glimpse of utter sadness and misery in her eyes, and before he could stop himself, he heard his voice say, "Uhh, sure; you can stay with me for awhile."

     The sadness in Brianna's eyes washed away almost the instant Frasier said "sure."  She threw herself foreword and flung her arms around his neck, embracing him tightly.  "Oh, thank you, thank you!" she squealed.  In her head, that voice had sounded _nothing_ like her, but she shook it off.  "I can't tell you how much this means to me!"

     Frasier, who had been caught off-guard by Brianna's unexpected hug, made a grunting sound that sounded slightly like "Uh-huh."

Brianna removed her arms from around Frasier's neck and grinned at him.  "Although, Brianna, I hope you don't mind sleeping on the couch.  It's the only bed I have left."

     "Oh no; I don't mind at all!"  By the sound of her voice, Frasier guessed that he could have told Brianna that she was sleeping on the floor in the kitchen and she would not have minded.

     "And don't worry about my clothes," she continued, standing up from the couch.  "I'll just leave them in my suitcases; I don't plan on staying long.  I'll find a job as soon as I can."

     Frasier nodded, still wondering how Brianna had manipulated him into letting him stay.   "Fras?" Martin called, coming out from his bedroom.  "Is Brianna still-" As soon as he came out from the corner, he saw Brianna and snapped his mouth shut.  "Oh, hello Brianna."

     "Dad, Brianna's going to be staying with us a couple of nights," Frasier declared, giving Martin a "Be-happy-with-it" look.

     Martin must have understood Frasier's look, because his face broke into a friendly smile.  "Well, that's just great!" he said, coming down the stairs.  "And you don't mind having to sleep on the couch."

     Brianna shook her head and waved her hand.  "Naw, it doesn't bother me.  It's better than staying in a hotel with the-_ahem_-unwashed sheets."  She grimaced slightly and shook her head in disgust.  "In college, my friends and I brought a black light into a hotel room and . . . well; let's just leave the rest up to the imagination, shall we?"

     She tucked her auburn hair behind her ear and looked at Frasier, who obviously had the thought of a black lighted hotel bed in his mind; he had a disgusted frown plastered on his face.  "Frasier, could you show me where the bathroom is?"

     "Oh, yes, it's right there," he replied, pointing to the powder room door.  As Brianna stepped inside and pulled the door shut, Frasier looked at his father.  "Dad, I know what you're going to say, but I couldn't help it!  She looked so miserable and upset that I had to help her-"

     "Frasier," Martin interrupted.  "I don't mind having Brianna stay here.  It could be, I don't know, fun.  She could tell us stories about Niles in high school.  You know, the version we never saw."  He smiled a wicked smile and walked into the kitchen for a beer.

     Frasier rolled his eyes.  A knock on the door made him turn around and open the door.  His younger brother Niles was standing in the doorway.  "Hello Niles," he greeted, stepping back to allow his brother to enter.

     "Hello Frasier," Niles replied.  

     "Oh, Niles," said Martin, entering from the kitchen, "I think that there's someone here you'd like to see."  He cocked an eyebrow at his son and sat down in his chair.

     "Really?  Who?"

     With perfect timing, Brianna opened the bathroom door and stepped out into the living room.  "Wow Frasier," she declared, rubbing her hands together.  "You really have a lot of-" 

     She cut off her sentence, looking at Niles for about a minute, him looking back at her.  They both had the same look upon their faces: remembrance.  "Niles?" she asked, stepping closer.  "You have not changed a _bit_."

     Niles stared at Brianna for a second more before he finally figured out who she was.  "Brianna?  Brianna Ackland?  From high school?"

     Brianna nodded.  "Yeah, that would be me," she replied, shrugging a bit.

     "You know, I'd say that you haven't changed at all, but . . ." Niles walked up to her, having to look up to meet her eyes.  "You _have_ changed."

     Brianna shrugged again, smiling down at him.  "Well, you know . . . the Irish are said to be tall . . ." After the last word left her mouth, Brianna thought, _What__?  What was _that_?_

Nevertheless, she shrugged off her off-the-wall comment and said: "So, how have you been?"

     "Well," began Niles, sitting down on the couch and gesturing for Brianna to do the same, "I am now married to a woman named Maris."

     "Oh really?  What is she like?" asked Brianna, generally interested. 

     "She's-" Niles paused, searching for the right word.  

     "Unique," finished Frasier, sitting down beside Brianna on the couch.

     "Ah," replied Brianna, giving Frasier an understanding look.

     "How have _you_ been?" asked Niles.

     "Well, I've been living with my mother and her, umm, thirty-five year old husband Steve because they wanted me to be, I don't know, rich . . . or marry someone who's rich.  You know, just for the money.  A few days ago, I couldn't take it anymore, so I stormed out and here I am.  Jobless and pretty much broke, but your brother was kind enough to take me in for a week or so."

     "Really?" Niles asked, throwing Frasier a wondering glance.  After all of Frasier's ranting about having so many people living with him, he was actually going to let Brianna stay with him?  Interesting . . .

     "So, what are you hoping to accomplish here?" he asked.

     "Truly, I have _no_ idea," admitted Brianna.  "But trust me, I'll figure it out soon enough," she added, noticing Frasier and Niles exchange worried glances.  "And I still can't thank you enough for letting me stay with you, Frasier," she said, smiling graciously at Frasier, who nodded nervously.

     _This should be an interesting week, _thought Frasier.  _I'm letting a woman I barely know stay in my house until she finds a job, and she doesn't even know_ what_ she wants to do.  Yes, this will be very interesting indeed . . ._

_To Be Continued . . ._

A/N: Okay, I know that Frasier letting Brianna live with him almost immediately is kind of far-fetched, but go with me, please.  ;-)  And don't forget to review!


	4. A Simple Plan

Disclaimer: I do not own "Frasier" or any related characters. The only parts of this story that I _do_ own are: the plot and the character Brianna.

A/N: Sorry for taking so long with this chapter. I've had writer's block for awhile, and don't even get me started on school. They want to kill me, I swear . . . anyways, here's Chapter Four.

Title: Blast from the Past

Rating: PG-13 . . . because I can!!!

Genre: General

Summary: When a woman from the past shows up, she unleashes an "interesting" havoc among the Crane family and friends.

* * *

**Chapter Four-A Simple Plan**

_Later That Day . . ._

Brianna was setting up the couch, transforming it into a bed. By the time she was finished, she heard a knock at the door. She glanced around and when she did not hear anyone coming, she walked towards the door and opened it.

"Watch out," the woman who had knocked on the door said as she stepped into the apartment. She was carrying two brown paper grocery bags in her arms and was bent over slightly as she stumbled into the room.

"Umm, do you need any help?" Brianna asked walking after the woman.

"Oh, yes. Thank you." The obviously-English woman handed Brianna one of the two bags. "And . . . you are . . ?"

"Oh, I'm Brianna Ackland. I'm an old friend of Niles from high school," she explained while she carried the grocery bag into the kitchen.

"Oh, were you the woman on the phone earlier?" Brianna nodded. "Well, I'm Daphne Moon, Mr. Crane's physical therapist."

"Ahh. Well, since you just arrived, I guess you don't know . . . I'm going to be staying here for a few days."

"Are you really?" Daphne asked, sounding a little hesitant. "Well, that's going to be just great. I have to tell you, being with only Dr. Crane and Mr. Crane . . . it can get rather irritating being the only female."

"I can believe that," Brianna agreed, nodding.

There was a long, awkward silence as Brianna and Daphne each chose a spot on the opposite wall and stared at it, unable to come up with anything more to say.

"Daphne, did I hear you come in?" Frasier called out, coming inside from the balcony where he, Niles, and Martin had been, talking (_About me_, Brianna thought, nervously).

"Yes, Dr. Crane. I'm in the kitchen with Brianna," Daphne replied, and Brianna could hear the relief in her voice; Frasier's coming in had cut into her and Brianna's "awkward silence." Daphne walked out of the kitchen into the living room, Brianna following closely behind.

Frasier and Niles were sitting on the couch and Martin was in his chair. The thing that caught Brianna's eye was the way Niles's eyes flashed as soon as Daphne had entered the room . . . or maybe it was her imagination. Niles _was_ married, wasn't he? _Yeah,_ Brianna thought, _it must've been my imagination._

"I see you've met Brianna," Frasier said, smiling warmly up at Daphne.

"Yes, and she said that she was going to be staying here for a day or so," Daphne replied, returning Frasier's smile. "Oh," she added, as an afterthought, "would anyone like something to drink? Dr. Crane?" she asked, looking at Niles.

"Umm, n-no, nothing for me," Niles replied, and the intensity at which he stared at Daphne made Brianna begin to think that there was something . . . some kind of spark between them. Or at least _one_ of them.

"Anyone else, then?" Daphne asked, looking around the room. Everyone else replied with a shake of their head. Daphne shrugged, and sat down on the armrest of the couch, nearest to Niles.

"So, Brianna, what kind of job are you looking for here?" Frasier asked, in an attempt to start a conversation.

Brianna did not respond immediately; she had been watching Niles. She noticed that, whenever Daphne happened to turn her head away, he would lean slightly closer. "Oh," she said, suddenly, shifting her gaze to Frasier. "I . . . what was the question?"

Frasier raised an eyebrow and threw a quick glance towards Martin, who replied with a quick shrug of his shoulders. "What kind of job are you looking for here?" Frasier repeated, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"Well, I was thinking . . ." Brianna paused. "You'll probably laugh, but its okay. I want to be a singer. Or something in that general area."

Frasier nodded, and Brianna could not see any amusement in his eyes at her answer. "Well, since I work at the radio station, I could probably help you with that."

"You'd do that for me? I mean, we basically just met-"

"I know, but it's no problem. Really." Frasier nodded at his last word.

"Wow," Brianna said. "That's . . . either really sweet, or you _really_ want me to leave your apartment."

"No, it's not that-"

"Oh, don't worry about it. If I were you, I'd want me to leave as soon as possible, too," Brianna said, waving her hand absentmindedly. "Really, it's okay." She cleared her throat. "Anyways, that's what I want to do. I have a guitar and-"

Brianna cut off the rest of her sentence. _Oh God_, she thought. _I left my guitar back in Florida._ "Oh, damn it," she muttered, rubbing her temple.

"What is it?" Martin asked, leaning in slightly.

"I left my guitar in Florida. Well, maybe if I call my mom she'll mail it to me . . . although you know how expensive U-Haul can be," she added, sarcastically, with a roll of her eyes.

"Wow, your mother really is . . ." Daphne stopped talking, unsure of how to finish her sentence.

"A money-obsessed bitch? Yeah, that's true." Brianna shook her head. "Well, maybe she will. I mean, I _did_ move out of her house after over fifteen years . . ." Brianna's eyes drifted back to Niles; he was staring longingly up at Daphne. _He really looks smitten with her_, Brianna thought. _But isn't he married? To Maris, or whatever her name is?_

"Niles," Brianna said, moving towards the kitchen. She nearly smiled at the way he snapped out of his trance when she said his name. "Could you show me where the . . . ice is?"

"Well, I could show you-" Frasier began, starting to get up.

"-And I need to ask you a question," Brianna added, causing Frasier to sit back down on the couch.

"Sure," Niles replied, getting up and following Brianna to the kitchen. He walked over to the refrigerator and opened the freezer door. "See, the ice is right-"

"This isn't about that," Brianna whispered, throwing a quick glance back towards the living room. "I don't need ice. I don't even have a drink. Listen, I have a question to ask you.

"Okay," Niles replied, nervously, closing the freezer door.

"Do you have a thing for Daphne?"

Niles drew back, obviously shocked. His back smacked against the freezer door, causing the other door to open. "What . . . what are you talking about?" he asked, his voice shaking, while he closed the refrigerator door.

"Do you have a-" Brianna brought up her hands and made quotes symbols with her middle and index fingers, "-'crush' on Daphne? Don't worry, it's not like I'm going to tell. Remember what happened with Kendall?" she asked, grimacing slightly.

Niles nodded. "The grape juice stain never came out of that shirt," he said, pitifully. "But . . . no. I mean, Daphne, while she may be the most beautiful, perfect woman I've ever seen . . . I don't _love_ her. I mean, I have Maris, who . . . is my wife. I don't love Daphne. I mean, I think of her as a . . . a goddess, maybe, but I don't _love_ her. I-"

"A goddess?" Brianna repeated, a mixed look of confusion and perplexity washing over her face. "Wow, I thought that you maybe had a little thing for her but . . . you _love _her."

"I do not," retorted Niles, defensively.

"Yes you do," argued Brianna, nodding. "I was your best friend in high school. I _know_ these things."

"Well, maybe I do _adore_ her, _worship_ her, even, but I would never _dream_ of leaving my Maris."

At that, Brianna raised an eyebrow. "Why not? You'd probably be happier, right?"

"I don't know. Maybe, maybe not. I'm _married_; I can't go after Daphne."

"Would you, though? If you weren't married?" Brianna asked, hopefully.

". . . yes, I guess I would. But I _am_ married. To a . . ." Niles searched for the right adjective. ". . . woman. And my feelings for Daphne will just have to . . . stay where they are."

"You should go after her," Brianna said, seriously.

"What? I can't; I'd be cheating on Maris-"

"So? If you love her, go after her," Brianna retorted, rolling her eyes. "It's not _hard_. Remember when you told Kendall how you felt about her?"

"Actually, _you_ told Kendall how I felt about her," Niles said, looking up at Brianna.

"That's right, and I'll do it again with Daphne if you don't tell her," Brianna said, looking into Niles's eyes so that he would know that she was not joking.

Niles returned her gaze, and Brianna was happy to see that a small trace of fear washed over his eyes. "I can believe that," Niles said. "But don't. I'll tell her . . . when the time comes."

Brianna smiled slightly. "Would you tell her that you love her if she felt the same way about you?" she asked, a look of thoughtfulness appearing on her face.

Niles looked at her, becoming aware of what she was implying. "Yes, I believe I would. Why?" he added, although he had a good idea of what she was going to suggest.

"If I can get Daphne to fall in love with you, unless she already has, will you tell her?" Brianna asked, her smile widening.

"If you can do that, I would worship you more than I do Da-"

"Hey kids," Martin announced as he entered the kitchen. "Just grabbing myself a beer."

"Dad! Hey Dad," Niles said, covering up his prior sentence.

Martin gave Niles a curious look and then looked over at Brianna, who simply shrugged. Martin took out a can of beer and left the kitchen, leaving Brianna and Niles alone.

"So, is it a deal?" Brianna asked, holding out her hand.

Niles looked at her hand for a moment before placing his hand in hers. "Yes," he said, as they shook hands. "But something tells me that you'll never make it happen."

Brianna smiled at him. "Maybe. But if I do, I'm holding you to that 'worshiping' promise." She turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Niles standing there rolling his eyes, but a hopeful look upon his face.

Who knows what Brianna could do?

_To Be Continued . . ._

A/N-I'm sorry that this chapter is so short! I wanted to get it uploaded before prom tomorrow. I know that I said that this wasn't going to be a "romance" story, but I meant between Brianna and Niles. And maybe this _won't_ be a romance story. You don't know. Actually, neither do I, but that's beside the point. Oh, and review please!!!


	5. Awakened Love

Disclaimer-Nope, I don't own "Frasier." It, as well as its characters, belongs to NBC and the rest of their creators. The only thing that I _do_ own is Brianna Ackland. But that's all. Really.

A/N-Many thanks go out to TVStoryGirl538, who gave me some suggestions for this chapter. And don't forget to review. Oh, and I forgot to mention at the beginning of the story that:

!!!No one knows about Niles's crush on Daphne!!!

Just wanted to be sure you all knew that . . . anyways . . .

Title: Blast from the Past

Rating: PG-13 . . . because I can!!!

Genre: General

Summary: When a woman from the past shows up, she unleashes an "interesting" havoc among the Crane family and friends.

* * *

**Chapter Five-Awakened Love**

"Niles," Brianna said, moving towards the kitchen. She nearly smiled at the way he snapped out of his trance when she said his name. "Could you show me where the . . . ice is?"

"Well, I could show you-" Frasier began, starting to get up.

"-And I need to ask you a question," Brianna added, causing Frasier to sit back down on the couch.

"Sure" Niles replied, getting up and following Brianna to the kitchen.

Frasier, Daphne, and Martin watched as Brianna and Niles entered the kitchen. "What do you think they're talking about?" Daphne asked, in a whisper.

"Oh, she's probably asking him about possible jobs, or something along that line," Frasier replied, but he felt that that was not the case. Brianna had been so excited when Frasier had mentioned that he could help her that he almost _knew _that she and Niles weren't talking about jobs.

"Well, it's not our business," Daphne said, when Martin cast another look towards the kitchen. "And if you'll excuse me, I need to use the restroom." She stood up and walked towards her room in the very back of Frasier's apartment.

"And _I'm_ going to go and get a beer," Martin declared, standing up and heading towards the kitchen.

"You just want to eavesdrop, don't you?" Frasier asked, smiling slightly.

"No, no. I'm just . . . really thirsty; is that a problem?" Martin said, defensively and walking towards the kitchen. _Now to see if I can catch any of what those kids are talkin' about_, Martin thought as he paused slightly before the kitchen's entrance.

"I . . . worship you-" Martin froze at his youngest son's words.

Quickly, he continued into the kitchen. Maybe Niles would tell him about all of the things he had told Brianna. It was possible, wasn't it? "Hey kids," he declared upon entering the kitchen. He was trying to make his voice sound as collected as possible. "Just grabbing myself a beer."

"Dad!" Niles exclaimed, spinning around to look at him. "Hey Dad!"

Martin gave his son a confused look. Why couldn't Niles simply _tell_ him about his feelings for Brianna? He had a right to know. He looked over at Brianna, who gave him a shrug. She looked remarkably calm for someone who had just been told that they're worshiped by someone who has not even _seen_ them for over fifteen years.

Martin walked over to the refrigerator and took out a beer. He tried not to look at either Niles or Brianna on his way out.

"Frasier," Martin hissed as soon as he exited the kitchen. "Frasier, you wanna know what they were talking about in there?" he asked, sitting down in his chair.

"Dad . . ." Frasier began, about to protest about his father's gossiping, but thought better of it. "Yes, tell me." He leaned in closer to his father.

"Well, Niles just told Brianna that he, quote, unquote, 'Worships her.'" Martin paused, waiting for the shock on Frasier's face to pass over. "That's what he said, he _worships_ her."

"But, but . . . they haven't seen each other since _high school_," Frasier replied.

"I know, I know . . . oh, _shh_; here they come." Martin straightened up in his chair and Frasier sat back down on the couch as Niles and Brianna entered the room. "Hi Niles, Brianna," Martin greeted. "What were you two talking about in there?" he asked, teasingly, still hoping that Niles would inform them about his feelings.

"Oh, we were just getting Brianna some ice," Niles replied, and Brianna held up a glass, which was full of ice and water.

"Oh, okay." Martin looked over at Frasier and gave him a perplexed look.

"I'm back," Daphne announced, coming down the stairs to the living room.

Brianna glanced over at Niles, who had a small smile plastered upon his face as he gazed at Daphne. "Say, Daphne," Brianna began, glad that she was no longer feeling uneasy about being around these people; her ability to talk to anyone had returned just in time, "how would you like to grab something for lunch? I mean, I know Niles, Frasier, and Martin _pretty_ well, but I don't really know you. And if we're going to be around each other a lot, we might as well know each other, right?"

Daphne looked at her. Brianna could tell that Daphne did not completely understand why she had put out the offer, but she nodded her head nonetheless. "Yes, that'd be fun. Where do you want to go?"

"I don't know. Why don't _you_ choose?"

"Okay, now it sounds even_ more_ fun. Let's go!" Daphne walked up the stairs to the coat closet and pulled out a jacket. She walked to the door and added, "Come on, then."

"Hold on, hold on," Brianna said, waving her hand at Daphne; she was searching through her suitcase, trying to find a jacket. "Okay, I'm ready," she said, after pulling out a denim jacket and pulling it on. "Let's go." Daphne opened the door and Brianna followed her out, pulling the door closed behind her.

Frasier and Martin exchanged a confused look. "So," Martin said, looking over at Niles, "how about the three of us go to lunch together?"

"Sounds great," Frasier replied, standing up from the couch. Niles did not respond, however; he was staring at the closed door, an anxious look upon his face. "Niles? How about it?"

Niles blinked a few times before realizing that his brother was talking to him. "What? Oh, yes. That sounds great."

"_What_ sounds great?" Frasier asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Umm . . . l-lunch?" Niles said, unsurely, smiling a nervous smile.

"You got lucky, Niles," Frasier said.

"I know," Niles replied, exhaling loudly.

"Why were you staring after them so intently?" Frasier asked, wanting his brother to tell them about all of his "hidden feelings" for Brianna. And what Brianna had said after he had told her.

"I'm just wondering what women do when they have time alone. I've heard that they talk about us, but it still puzzles me."

Frasier nodded. "It does the same to me. Come on, let's go to lunch." He gestured for Niles and Martin to move towards the door and followed them out of the apartment and into the waiting elevator.

* * *

_Meanwhile . . ._

"So, how long have you been living with Frasier and his father?" Brianna asked after she and Daphne had been seated at their table.

"Almost a year now," Daphne replied, picking up her menu and inspecting it. "If you don't mind my asking, why _are_ you here?"

"Oh, just the usual my-mother-wants-me-to-be-a-gold-digger-so-I-moved-out story. Nothing special. Anyways, what do you think about the Cranes?" Brianna asked, moving the subject back towards the Cranes and, more specifically, Niles.

"They're lovely people. Well, except for their obsessions with having everything beautiful and perfect and expensive-looking. I really must tell you, Frasier always wants his furniture to be spotless. You know, in case the mayor or the Pope drops in unexpectedly." Daphne rolled her eyes and took a sip of water.

"Ahh. And what about Niles? What do you think about him?" Brianna inquired, placing her elbow upon the table and resting her chin in her hand.

"He's a sweetheart, really. And how he got stuck with a woman like his Maris baffles me. She . . ." Daphne paused, as though uneasy about continuing.

"She what?" Brianna asked, encouraging Daphne to continue. "Don't worry, I won't tell her. I don't even _know _her."

". . . it's just that, she doesn't seem to love him the way he deserves," Daphne finished and Brianna saw her face flush slightly.

"You think he deserves better?" Brianna asked, drumming her fingers on her cheek.

"Well, even though he is a little high-maintenance, he's still very kind. And very generous. And complementary. Last week, I bought a new dress and when I wore it that night, he noticed almost instantly."

Brianna suppressed a grin and nodded. _You wouldn't think it was so nice if you knew that he was practically _stalking_ you_, Brianna thought.

"And Mr. Crane, he's-" Daphne began, changing the subject.

"What do you like best about Niles?" Brianna interrupted, switching the subject back to Niles. "I mean, you seem to like him a lot; what is his best aspect?"

Daphne raised her eyebrows at Brianna's question. _Brianna seems to be very interested in Dr. Crane. _Too _interested. He's a married man, she can't go after him. If that's even what she wants. But just to be safe, I'd better try and convince her that Dr. Crane isn't her type of man._ "Oh, I don't know . . . aside from his obsessive cleaning with that hanky, his desire to be better than his brother, and his passion about wine, he's . . . okay."

Brianna narrowed her eyes. She had been doing so well, why were Daphne's answers changing. _Maybe she's trying to deny having feelings for him_, Brianna thought. _Well, I'll just keep trying._ "Okay, so he has weird obsessions, everyone's got those. What is his _best_ aspect?"

"Why do you want to know so badly?" Daphne asked, in an attempt to trap Brianna in a corner. _You shouldn't be with Dr. Crane, either_, she thought. _He should be with . . . someone different. Someone who's actually _known _him in the last week._

"Well, I haven't seen him in over fifteen years," she replied. "I just want to see if he's changed at all. And from the facts you've told me, he hasn't changed _too_ much since high school."

Daphne forced a smile. "Well," she began, "he seems like he'd be a great father." Her smile relaxed into a more natural smile. "And he really is a sweetheart, like I said. Although he has a nasty habit of standing too close to you at times."

Brianna chuckled, and nodded her head. "I can agree with that," she said.

"And," Daphne continued, as though she hadn't heard Brianna's statement, "he seems like a devoted and caring husband, although his wife doesn't deserve that much." She shook her head in disgust. "It amazes me how much Maris takes him for granted."

"Wow," Brianna said, causing Daphne, who had been staring at the table while she had been talking, to look up at her. "It sounds like you really like him."

"Oh no. I don't like him like _that_," Daphne replied, defensively, shaking her head. "I like him as a friend, of course, but any more than would be . . ." Her voice trailed off.

Brianna nodded. "Uncomfortable because he's married.," she finished and Daphne nodded. "But would you?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Daphne gave her a confused look. "Would I what?"

"Would you go after him? If he wasn't married?"

Daphne stared into Brianna's green eyes. _Why is she asking me this? Is she trying to make sure that there's no one else to steal Niles from her?_ Daphne shrugged. "I really don't know," she replied.

Brianna smiled slightly. "Excuse me, are you ready to order?" Brianna looked up at the young waiter who had asked the question.

"Yes, we're ready to order," Daphne replied.

* * *

Niles, Frasier, and Martin had just been seated at their table. As they read over their menus, Martin decided to "casually" bring up the subject of Brianna. "So," he began, lying his menu down in front of him, "Brianna's really pretty, don't you think?"

Frasier shot Martin an "are you kidding?" look. "Yes Dad," he replied, stiffly. "She is. What do you think, Niles?"

"What?" Niles asked, glancing up from his menu.

Frasier rolled his eyes; Niles had asked them to repeat what they had said all the way to the restaurant. Something was on his mind, Frasier was sure of this. And Frasier didn't blame him; telling someone that you worship them can cause your mind to wander. "He asked if you think that Brianna is attractive," he said.

"Oh." Martin and Frasier saw Niles turn slightly red. "I suppose that she is. She was in high school as well."

"So Niles, seriously, what were you two talking about in the kitchen earlier. When I walked in, you tried really hard to cover up something," Martin said.

"Oh, umm . . ." He cleared his throat. "She and I were . . . talking-" He placed the back of his hand against his mouth and let out a cough, "-talking about jobs. For her. And if there was anything I could do." Niles's fingers rose up and gently brushed his nose.

"But I thought she and I had decided that I was going to help her by giving her a job at the radio station, if possible," Frasier rejoined, stroking the bottom of his chin with his thumb, thoughtfully.

"Yes, but she said that she . . . uhh . . . needed a side-job. You know, for, umm, taxes and . . . whatnot." Niles gripped the bridge of his nose, feeling a nose bleed coming on. It happened every time he tried to lie. "Excuse me. I need to go to the bathroom." He stood up and, his head thrown back, walked swiftly to the bathroom.

"He's lying to us," Martin muttered to his eldest son as soon as Niles had gone out of view.

"Really, I couldn't tell, what with his nose bleed and all," Frasier replied, sarcastically, with a roll of his eyes.

"That was unneeded," Martin said, sternly. "Anyways, why would he lie to us about something like this?"

"I was just asking myself the same thing, Dad. And I believe that he's lying to us about his feelings for Brianna because he's still married to Maris, and doesn't want us to know until he's able to go after her. Brianna, I mean."

"You know, that actually makes sense," Martin stated, pointing his index finger at Frasier. "Because if he told us, we'd only want him to pursue her faster, and he wouldn't want to do that to Maris, although she probably wouldn't notice. I mean, she's hardly ever around."

Frasier nodded. "Exactly. Although, he and Brianna would make sort of an _interesting_ couple, don't you think? I mean, she's about half a foot taller than he is." Frasier chuckled at the image.

Martin joined in on the laughter. "That's true." His laughter slowly faded and he cleared his throat. "We shouldn't laugh. If your brother really likes her, we should be supportive."

"Dad, you said that Niles _worships_ her. I think that he doesn't simply 'like' her. I think that he must _love_ her."

"Wow. It's amazing; you simply see someone you haven't seen in _years_, and all of a sudden, you're in love. That's not really 'love at first sight,' is it?"

"No, I guess not." Frasier paused, thinking about it. "What _would_ you call it? 'Rekindled love,' maybe?"

"But he didn't love her in high school, did he?" Martin asked. "Or did I just not pay attention enough?"

Frasier shrugged. "I suppose he _could_ have, it's possi-"

"_Shh_," Martin shushed him, looking towards the restrooms. "Here he comes," he added in a low whisper.

"I'm back," Niles declared as he sat down at the table.

"Feeling better?" Frasier asked, glancing slightly at the pieces of tissue that were protruding from his brother's nose.

"Yes," Niles replied. "I think that the . . . humidity got to me," he added, placing a hand on his nose.

"Of course," Frasier replied, taking a momentary look at his father, who was trying not to smile. "Niles," he began, as Niles took a sip of water, "Dad and I were just discussing the different forms of love."

Niles began to cough as the water he had been drinking went down the wrong way. "Oh . . . really?" he asked, in between coughs.

"Yes, and we all know about 'love at first sight,' right?" Niles nodded, his coughing dying down. "Well, what do you call it if someone falls in love with someone they haven't seen in a very, _very_ long time?"

"Well, I'd call that 'Reawakened love,'" Niles said, feeling a sense of relief wash over him; they _hadn't _been talking about Daphne after all.

"But what if the man, or woman, was not in love with the other person prior to their reunion?" Frasier asked, cocking an eyebrow at his younger brother.

"Well . . ." Niles paused. "I suppose you'd call that . . . 'Awakened love,'" he decided, nodding his head for effect.

"Awakened love," Frasier repeated. "Yes, I suppose that that would work . . ." His voice trailed off. "Thank you, Niles. That would have bothered me all day."

Niles nodded, and then proceeded in reading over his menu. _So, Niles has 'Awakened love' for Brianna. But if he would simply tell us about it, we would be able to help him_, Frasier thought. _Although, who says Niles needs to tell us about his feelings for us to help him?_

* * *

_Meanwhile . . ._

Daphne and Brianna had just finished their lunch and receiving their bill. "Let me get that," Daphne said, taking the bill from the waiter. "It's your first day here, and, according to your story, you have no money to speak of."

Brianna nodded. "Yeah, and thanks so much for paying. I promise, as soon as I get my first paycheck, I'll take you out again, but _I'll_ pay."

_Yes, unless you somehow persuade Dr. Crane to cheat on his wife with you_, Daphne thought. "Okay, that sounds nice."

As she received her change, Daphne was thinking, _I am going to do everything in my power to make sure that you and Dr. Crane are not alone. Ever. Until this passes over. I'm not going to risk Dr. Crane's getting into trouble with his wife just because you have feelings for him. I am going to watch you two like a hawk._

_To Be Continued . . ._

A/N-Oh, confusion all over the place! Everyone's thinking different things! You know, I almost named this chapter "What Would Jack and Chrissy Do?" You know, "Three's Company," how there would always be some kind of misunderstanding. Anyways, that's my sad attempt at humor. Luckily, I chose a different title. Umm...sorry about talking . . . writing so much. Review!!!!


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